


Blame it on gravity

by SwordsAndSoftWords



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Lambert (The Witcher), Idiots in Love, M/M, but also sort of fluff without plot, sort of porn without plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28202538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwordsAndSoftWords/pseuds/SwordsAndSoftWords
Summary: It’s odd, Lambert thinks. No one has ever looked like that around him; most people look to be struggling when in his presence. Struggling not to strangle him, struggling not to run away, struggling not to call him a freak or an asshole. Even people he has had sex with seem to struggle with not kicking him out of their beds immediately. Aiden though, Aiden has never once struggled around him. From the moment they met he had made it easy, making jokes even when Lambert himself showed no signs of so much as acknowledging his presence, treating him like he wasn’t insufferable, ignoring his bad moods by steadily steam-rolling him with his own  upbeat-ness. In all of Lambert’s dark and dreary Witcher life, Aiden was the closest to happiness he ever achieved. A small streak of warm sunlight in a never-ending succession of black and white days.Or, they're idiots, they're in love, what else can I say.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 67





	Blame it on gravity

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I don't know what this is. This is fluff without plot because I'm soft on these idiots. I've never written so much as a word of porn before so this is my first attempt; I don't even know if it qualifies as porn but whatever it is, I'm aware it's terrible. I'm sorry. This came to me in a fever dream while I was out with the flu, so that's my excuse.  
> English isn't my first language (and I'm still a little sick so my attention is not at its best); if you spot any typos, let me know!

He can feel every inch of Aiden’s body where it sticks to his. They’re practically glued together now, with sweat and oil and saliva, Aiden’s front to his back, thighs flush with thighs. Aiden’s arm under his neck moves from his chest to his shoulder and holds on so tight that Lambert can barely breathe; his other hand holds on to Lambert’s hip so strongly that he’s sure it’ll leave a bruise that will, unfortunately, be gone by morning. He’s lost track of how long they’ve been like this. It feels like centuries have elapsed; it feels like barely a second has passed.

Aiden stops his long, slow thrusts suddenly, and Lambert can feel his lover’s hot breath on the back of his neck, spreading through his shoulder blades.

“Aiden?”, he manages to groan out, his voice dry and crackling.

“Lambert… Lambert… My love…”, Aiden answers back, his voice wrecked. It comes out between harsh breaths; Lambert has seen Aiden fight griffins and come out the other side barely winded. Seeing him like this makes something hot crawl inside of him.

“Aiden”, he tries again, and it comes out even more cracked than the last one.

“I’m sorry”, Aiden says, and he pulls Lambert’s leg over his own, as if it was possible for them to get any closer. “Sorry… I’m just… You’re… It’s a lot, you know.”

Aiden starts moving again, faster this time. Lambert has no leverage, spread almost on his back over Aiden now with his leg like that, and this new position is making Aiden hit all the right spots inside him. He hears a loud keening sound, almost like a wail, and he feels Aiden’s mouth on his shoulder, leaving small kisses wherever he can reach. It makes Lambert realise, with a start, that he’s the one making the wailing noises. He wants to stop but his mouth is not responding so instead he tries to move his hand to close around Aiden’s at his hip. He misses by quite a bit but ends up grasping Aiden’s thigh and holding on steady.

His orgasm catches up to him unexpectedly, Aiden’s hand around his cock and his mouth kissing the soft skin behind his ear. He’s still trying to catch his breath when he feels Aiden stiffen up and then completely relax, so much that he collapses backwards and drags Lambert with him. Lambert tries to make them slightly more comfortable by turning around and resting his head next to Aiden’s on the pillow. He watches his partner breathing hard, his eyes closed, his face stuck in an expression of bliss.

It’s odd, Lambert thinks. No one has ever looked like that around him; most people look to be struggling when in his presence. Struggling not to strangle him, struggling not to run away, struggling not to call him a freak or an asshole. Even people he has had sex with seem to struggle with not kicking him out of their beds immediately. Aiden though, Aiden has never once struggled around him. From the moment they met he had made it easy, making jokes even when Lambert himself showed no signs of so much as acknowledging his presence, treating him like he wasn’t insufferable, ignoring his bad moods by steadily steam-rolling him with his own upbeat-ness. In all of Lambert’s dark and dreary Witcher life, Aiden was the closest to happiness he ever achieved. A small streak of warm sunlight in a never-ending succession of black and white days.

Lambert can barely believe they finally made it here. They’ve known each other for so long, almost two decades since that fateful troll hunt (he refuses to let Aiden tell that story to anyone, thank you) and being fast friends, walking the Path together for most of the year. Lambert remembers the first day he looked at Aiden and was suddenly overwhelmed with how beautiful he really was, with the way his golden skin glowed in the setting sun, with the way his eyes matched the green of the forest around them, with the way he smiled so easily. He’s wanted this for too long and, even though he’ll never admit it, it was his fault for not having it sooner. When he thinks back on Aiden’s behaviour around him, he can tell now that he was an idiot. The soft touches, the stupid innuendoes, the burning looks. Lambert was a moron and he’s not afraid to admit it (in the comfortable solitude of his mind only, of course).

Aiden’s mouth tilts up slightly at the corner and his eyelashes flutter for the smallest moment before his eyes open.

“You seem to be thinking very hard, my little goblin. I guess I didn’t do my job as well as I should have”, Aiden’s smooth voice says, in a hushed tone more fitting for worship than for this inn room in a backwater town. He brings his hand up and smooths a finger down Lambert’s nose, in a gesture that’s become common between them long before they were ready to admit to being more than begrudging acquaintances.

“You did”, Lambert answers, keeping his voice low as well, more out of necessity than actual choice. “You did it so well my brain’s being more of an idiot than usual.”

“Oh no,” Aiden says, with a soft laugh. “More idiot than usual is terrible. We can never have sex again!”

It’s Lambert’s turn to laugh, lowly. His throat still feels like sand, and he can barely get his hand to come up and rest on Aiden’s chest. Once there, his fingers twist in a brave attempt to smooth down his chest hair, which is all clumped with sweat, but they fail and just rest there, feeling the steadying beat of Aiden’s heart.

“You’re right. Absolutely no sex, ever again.”

Aiden makes a sound, between a dying drowner and a gasp, and very valiantly tries to scoot on his side so he can better get at Lambert but gives up half-way there and just ends up scooping Lambert further into his embrace. It’s disgusting, he thinks. They’re sweaty and there’s cooling body fluids on both of them that are getting smeared the more they touch. He’s willing to ignore that, though, because Aiden is giving him a blissful smile again and has slotted their legs together in a way Lambert never thought he’d fit in with another person.

“Alternatively, here’s my proposal: all the sex, all the time. Exposure therapy, you know; we have sex so often your brain has no choice but to get used to it. Then you can just be your standard level of idiot or, if we’re very lucky, maybe I can even fuck some sense into you.”

Aiden says all of this with his nose tucked under Lambert’s chin, scenting the skin there and leaving a trail of kisses all the way down his jaw.

“I accept your proposal, then. Let’s see how long before you realise there’s no space left anywhere to store any sense.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can make some. We throw away that thunder cloud you always carry around and your self-loathing, surely that would leave more than enough space for loads of common sense. We may even be able to fit in a lot of other useful things, like a sense of self-preservation or the appreciation for a good soap. We’ll scrub that pessimism right out of you, you’ll see”, Aiden says while nibbling on his bottom lip and Lambert really can’t be blamed for laughing at his idiot.

“Listen, asshole, never going to happen. That’s my entire personality; soon you’ll be telling me I need to start washing my hair regularly”, Lambert teases. He knows Aiden would kill for it. “You can’t change me, I’m a wild free spirit.”

“Lambert, my love, my sweetest, you organize your socks by colour inside your bag. A free spirit my ass, you’re the uptightest little shit I ever met. You’re absolutely, unbelievably lucky I love you as much as I do. Who else would put up with you ranting about how bombs should be used more often in fishing?”

“Well, first of all”, Lambert starts, craning his neck back to stare at Aiden, bringing his hand up from his chest to run it through his lover’s impossibly soft curls. He knows his neck is full of folds in this position and that he must look incredibly unattractive. “I’m beautiful and that’s why you love me.”

Aiden interrupts him by laughing so hard he dislodges Lambert from his embrace. He curls his legs in on himself and hold on to his stomach, and Lambert waits until the laughs die down to continue.

“Second of all, you runty cat, you know I’m right. I bet you months of so-called exposure therapy cannot fix any of this. And I can prove it to you, this winter.”

Aiden stops his chuckles to stare at him with wide eyes. He looks so much younger when he does that, his green-flecked golden eyes shining in the dying autumn light coming in through the narrow window making him look soft and innocent; Lambert is sure he fell in love with Aiden the first time he looked at him like that. Granted, the first time he fell victim to that particular look Aiden had just killed an abusive alderman and was trying to deny it even though he was covered in the man’s blood, had a bloody dagger in his hand and was trying unsuccessfully to hide it behind his back, and the body was right there, Aiden, for the sake of all the gods. Nonetheless, the look was extremely effective.

“Lambert…”, Aiden tries. He clears his throat and swallows compulsively for a few moments before trying to speak again. “Lambert, you know we can’t. You know why we can’t.”

“Fuck that”, Lambert says, sitting up, his hand still petting Aiden’s hair. “Come with me, and I dare any of those old, sad fuckers to say anything. You’re the best man I’ve ever met, Aiden. I want you with me, not wandering around the continent for months on end, alone and cold, while I sit in that miserable old castle, just as alone and just as cold, by the way, because that pile of rocks is literally falling apart. I’m tired of wondering if you’re still going to be alive come spring.”

Aiden opens his mouth but Lambert brings his hand down, covering the bottom half of his face.

“Don’t argue, asshole. Just say you’ll come with me.”

Aiden’s soft, slow breaths on his fingers are making him want to kiss the man again, but he can wait him out. Out of the two of them, Aiden is more likely to win an argument with logic, sure, but Lambert will always wear Aiden out in the long term. His lover is impatient and can’t stand to stay on a single subject for too long.

Instead of answering, Aiden simply nods, his curls spreading even more haphazardly on the pillow. His eyes are still huge, his pupils dilated enough to be almost perfectly round. It makes Lambert want to smile, and he thinks that for once he earned that right. He lets himself do it and feels like an idiot; he vows never to do it in front of his brothers or he’d never hear the end of it.

“Good. Now, you asshole, we’re going to get some sleep and then we’re going for round two. I haven’t been salivating for your dick for almost a whole decade to be satisfied with just a couple of ground-shaking orgasms.”

Aiden’s eyes crinkle and he licks Lambert’s hand.

“What, old man, you need a nap before round two? Because I’m ready to go, you know”, Aiden says and suggestively looks down himself to where his half-hard cock is lying on his thigh. Lambert starts salivating at the expanses of golden skin available to him.

“I’m younger than you, fucker. Hold on tight, this ride is about to get bumpy”, he says, laughing, diving straight into Aiden’s soft skin, leaving bite marks behind him.

Aiden laughs along with him and it warms Lambert up.

He’s been out in the cold too long, but not anymore. Not while this ridiculous, brave, soft man stays with him. And Lambert swears to the Fates and whoever else may be listening that he will destroy anything that tries to take Aiden from him.

Then, he focus back on leaving teeth-shaped bruises all over his lover and he lets the warmth spread all over him. He can love Aiden just how he deserves to be loved, and he never intends to stop.


End file.
